The verdant and the blue Dorian Nightingale

Dorian Nightingale

the verdant and the blue

stop, and take a look from over my shoulder. hold me close, as you map the surface and bear witness to my furthest geography. the land that follows me from high to below sea level. as far as the crow flies between the verdancy and blue. my terrain on view, my footprints found on every footpath and detour. where you can see my fingerprints all over the fingertips of the headland. down to the white tip of my nail, a recurving spit that still defies the tides. now bitten to the quick, on ground that is no more stone than wet sand.